


Anchored

by lynnwrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Captain Derek, Captain Stiles, Drunk Derek, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnwrites/pseuds/lynnwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will you at least tell me what’s so funny, so I can join in?” Scott just ran over to him, trusty parrot on his shoulder, and promptly started laughing so hard he couldn’t speak.</p><p>Scott tries to compose himself, and places his parrot on his shoulder. “Okay, so you know how you’re always talking about a certain pirate captain?”</p><p>Stiles scoffs. “I am not always talking about Dere-Captain Hale.” He curses himself for the slip-up. It’s not the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Come2findme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Come2findme/gifts).



> A (very late) birthday present for [withmyteeth](http://withmyteeth.tumblr.com/), I hope you enjoy ^_^

“Scott, I swear, if we weren’t standing on deck and in the direct view of ten of my crew members, I’d smack you.” Stiles could technically still do that. The crew wouldn’t care, to be honest. Jackson might even like it. 

They’re standing on the deck of the Fox Tail, Stiles’ ship since two years ago. The ship is on the small side, but it’s fast, and agile. It’s pretty damn good at catching up to heavy-loaded merchant ships, and occasionally allowing Stiles and his crew the feeling of gold in their hands. It’s not a bad life, overall.

Scott, the traitor, is doubled over from laughter. “I’m just…,” he inhales, “I can’t, I just can’t.”

“Will you at least tell me what’s so funny, so I can join in?” Scott just ran over to him, trusty parrot on his shoulder, and promptly started laughing so hard he couldn’t speak.

Scott tries to compose himself, and places his parrot on his shoulder. “Okay, so you know how you’re always talking about a certain pirate captain?”

Stiles scoffs. “I am not  _ always _ talking about Dere-Captain Hale.” He curses himself for the slip-up. It’s not the first time.

“Derek.”

Stiles blinks. That was most definitively not Scott’s voice. The voice croaks again, “Derek.”

“Scott, buddy. Why is your bird saying Derek’s name.”

Scott is barely suppressing a grin. “Watch this. Captain Hale.”

“Derek. Derek.” The bird reacts instantly, and Stiles is speechless.

“Why is it doing that? Make your bird stop, Scott.”

“It’s cause you say his name so fucking much! You’re literally always going on about him, so now Poppy’s saying it too!” Scott smirks.

“You named it Poppy?”

“Polly seemed stupid.” Scott shrugs.

“Right, okay. That bird needs to go. Fetch my pistol.”

“Stiles!”

“Kidding! Fuck, kidding!” Stiles grunts, then drops his face to the banister. “I swear, I’m not as obsessed with him as I sound.” That’s a blatant lie, but Scott’s nice enough to pretend.

“Sure, buddy,” Scott comforts him.

“It’s just cause I haven’t seen him in so long. We’ve been at sea for months now,  _ months _ , Scott!”

“Trust me, I know! We all know! Look,” Scott starts, careful not to get too familiar with his captain in full view of the rest of the crew. Sure, they all know they’re close friends, but a quartermaster should still show some respect for his captain. “Maybe things’ll be different. Like you said, it’s been months.”

 

\---

 

They met, as most of the people in Beacon Port, in a bar. Stiles had just come back from selling his cargo to the Argents, and decided to celebrate his gains in their brothel/bar. He’d paid his men that day, so the bar downstairs was crowded with crewmembers, from his ships and others. 

When Stiles got to the bar, he ordered his usual mug of beer, and scanned the room. He spotted the man instantly. Scruffy beard, black hair, and the cutest smile you’d never expect on a man of that size. Feeling confident after a successful few weeks at sea, Stiles swaggered over and pushed in close next to the man.

“Is that a wooden leg in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

It took a few seconds for Stiles’ brain to catch up with what came out of his mouth, and then he promptly facepalmed. 

“Oh my God. Ignore me. I’ll just go die somewhere now.” He dared a glance between the fingers obstructing his eyes and noticed the man was actually grinning.

“Why would my wooden leg be in my pocket?” he asked, sounding intrigued, head cocked to the side.

“Oh no! Do you actually-!” Stiles looked up in horror, moving so quickly he spilled half his drink on the bartop. 

The man, for lack of a better word,  _ snorted _ . “Relax, no, I don’t have a wooden leg in my pocket. Or anywhere else for that matter.” 

His smile was infectious, and Stiles attempted to find his cool. He dropped down onto a stool and leaned back against the bar, nearly dropping his elbow in the spilt beer before the man’s hand reached out to stop him. Stiles winced at how close he’d come to an extremely soggy elbow, but smiled when he noticed the man’s hand was still around his arm. “Okay, so...you’re happy to see me?”

Bunny teeth. The ruggedly handsome man in front of him had bunny teeth. And he was checking Stiles out. “Yeah, I think I am.” 

 

\---

 

The first time they kissed, it felt like it was supposed to happen, as easy as drawing a breath. 

Derek was showing Stiles around on his ship, showing him his quarters, talking about the ships he’d taken from on his last conquest. His quarters were similar to Stiles’ own, but a little roomier. A beautifully finished, wide desk, a large bookcase that was filled to the brim, and the bed of course,  suspended from the ceiling with thick ropes to prevent the waves from interrupting a good night’s sleep. Derek was very adamant about showing Stiles his book collection, and was currently explaining which books were his favourites. Stiles had sat down on the edge of his desk, and was listening, but more than anything, watching Derek speak. He was entranced, intrigued, enamored with Derek. When Derek caught him staring, Stiles winked.

“Come here,” he demanded, and led Derek inbetween his legs. 

He slid his hand into Derek’s hair, and then they just...kissed. Stiles could feel how Derek was smiling, how he was smiling himself and how crappy the kiss was going while they were both grinning like loons. He pulled back and pecked Derek on the lips, then pressed their foreheads together. Stiles grabbed hold of the jacket that was hanging open on Derek’s sturdy shoulders and leaned into him.

 

\---

 

The first time they slept together was at the brothel where they met. Stiles had subtly inquired with Allison Argent, the unofficial keeper of the brothel, if she had a room available for him, her girl not included. She had told him ‘if you have the coin, you have the room’ and had winked at him. Stiles was pretty sure there wasn’t a secret on this island that neither Allison or her girls were aware of, but he just wanted a room where he could relax, be  _ loud _ , consequences be damned.

To keep the charade up, Erica had led Stiles upstairs to the room, and a few minutes later, Derek came up too. Erica threw him the key to the room and grinned at them, leaving them with a “Have fun, boys” and a dirty wink.

They were nervous at first, staring at each other from separate corners of the room, but they quickly moved closer, growing more confident with every step and connecting in the middle. Stiles was very quickly getting addicted to looking at Derek. When Derek held him close, cupped his face and kissed him deeply, passionately, Stiles closed his eyes and enjoyed being held, being ravished. He trailed his fingers through Derek’s hair, releasing it from the hair tie and letting it curtain around their faces. Soon Stiles grew tired of this passive role, and he pushed open Derek’s shirt, then pushed him towards the bed. 

Derek was smirking up at him from where he was laying on the mattress now, and Stiles just had to stop for a second to enjoy the view. “Fuck.”

He then quickly removed his boots, pants and shirt, dropping them to the floor as he crawled onto the bed where Derek was waiting for him, now naked and stroking himself slowly.

“Derek…” Stiles started.

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek replied, trying, and failing, to suppress a grin.

Stiles snorted. “Stop laughing at me, you ass. How do you wanna do this?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but,” Derek nodded to the table next to the bed with small bottles on top. “I suspect we’ll be needing some oil. You’re gonna have to open me up first.”

“Oh?”, Stiles said, unable to hide his surprise. “I just assumed-”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted him with a kiss. “Get me ready.” Another kiss. “Or I’ll just do it myself.”

Stiles shot into action then, spilling almost half the bottle on the floor rather than his fingers before he finally reached down to massage at Derek’s rim. Conveniently at eye level with Derek’s hard cock, he tentatively gave it a lick, then another before suckling on the head while he breached Derek with his finger. 

A few minutes later, when Derek was ready and Stiles was pushing forward and fucking into him, Stiles was having real trouble keeping his cool. 

“Fuck, Derek, this might not last that long,” Stiles huffed, holding himself up on his hands, leaning over Derek’s sweat-drenched body.

Derek put his legs around Stiles’ hips and pulled him closer. “I don’t care. We got all night, don’t we?” He kissed the sweat off of Stiles’ top lip. “Now kindly start fucking me, please.”

...

When sunlight shone through the flimsy curtains, and Stiles was trailing his fingers through Derek’s chest hair, he felt happy. “We should do this again some time.”

Derek stiffened and grew quiet.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles lifted his head to look at Derek, who wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “Derek?”

“This was a mistake,” Derek said, still unwilling to look at Stiles. “We shouldn’t do this again.”

“I don’t understand. Why the fuck not?”

“Because…,”Derek told the floor, as he grabbed his clothes and started dressing himself. “I don’t want to, okay. It was a mistake. I can’t see you anymore.”

Stiles covered himself with the sheet, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. “Derek?”

“Goodbye Stiles,” Derek said, and closed the door behind him, leaving Stiles confused, but mostly very,  _ very _ pissed off.

 

\---

 

Unfortunately for Stiles, it was a small island, with an even smaller port city. There was very little chance of avoiding Derek, his crewmates, his ship, or literally anything that reminded Stiles of him.

Ignoring him went well for a while, Stiles having asked Scott to warn him if there was a wild Derek nearby. Stiles was hurt and confused, but if Derek didn’t want to see him anymore, then Stiles wouldn’t stand in his way. He could go fuck himself, for all he cared.

Stiles left on his next voyage, spent several weeks at sea, robbing merchant ships and feeling good. His crew must have noticed the difference in him, the ferocity with which he held himself now, but they were smart enough not to comment. 

When the Fox Tail arrived back at Beacon Port, and everyone was getting drunk on beer and women, Stiles took a stroll through the town. A bit dangerous, maybe, in the middle of the night, but Stiles carried a pistol and some knives. He let the gentle breeze wash over him as he walked through the city, when suddenly he was pulled into an alleyway. He didn’t hesitate and tried to grab for his pistol, but then the mystery man pushed him against the wall and kissed him. In his surprise, Stiles closed his eyes and automatically kissed him back, until he opened them and noticed it was Derek.

Stiles pulled back and pushed Derek towards the other wall. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Derek?”

Derek looked drunk, swaying on his feet a little, but his eyes remained steadily on Stiles. He looked nice. His beard had grown out a bit, but his hair was still tied at the back of his head, shirt loose and moving with the wind. Before Stiles knew it, he stepped forward and clutched Derek’s head firmly in his hands, pulled it closer to his and kissed him again. The kiss was dirty, wet, aggressive almost. Stiles didn’t  _ want _ to want to kiss him, but he couldn’t resist. Derek reacted in kind, resting his hands on Stiles’ hips and pushing them closer together. 

As soon as Stiles could feel himself grow hard, how Derek was growing hard against his hip, he pulled himself away from him. His lips felt swollen, and he was breathing fast.

“You can’t... ,” Stiles sighed, “You can’t do this to me.”

He walked out of the alleyway and back towards the center of town.

 

\---

 

Every once in awhile, the Argents called a meeting with some of the captains, their biggest suppliers of goods. Chris did most of the paperwork, while Allison dealt with the actual supply and demand. 

It was during one of these meetings that the universe decided to shit on Stiles again by making him run late. By the time he got to the room, everyone else was already there. And the only seat left...was next to Captain Hale.

Stiles could admit to himself he was half annoyed, half really glad. Despite the gravity of Derek’s assholeness, Stiles couldn’t help his feelings for the guy. Before it all went to shit, they had been doing so well. They had hung out often, had talked for hours on end. Stiles had told Derek the story of his parents back at home, Derek had told him of the sisters he left behind. Once, in Stiles’ quarters, he’d explained he didn’t actually mind the people who called him the baby faced captain. “My facial hair looks like pubes, Derek. Not a single person on this island would respect me if I grew a beard.” They had laughed, and they had been happy.

Now, sitting next to him, Stiles felt nostalgic, remembering the countless hours they spent together, relaxed, free. It’s what made him shift his foot under the table until it was touching Derek’s.

There were a few agonizing seconds where it felt like Stiles’ heart stopped, and then Derek’s foot pushed back against him. Stiles let out a heavy breath and tried to at least catch some of the words Allison was saying. He dropped his arm next to him and grabbed in the air for a bit until his fingers connected with Derek’s. He let them brush together, touching in whispers, riling him up with excitement.

When the meeting was over, and Allison was urging everyone to leave the room, Stiles and Derek were still glued to their seats. Their feet hadn’t moved, but Stiles hadn’t felt brave enough to look at Derek either. Allison looked unimpressed.

“I’m coming back here in an hour. I want all my furniture in the same place, and for you to be gone,” she said, before closing the door behind her.

“Stiles,” Derek started, finally making Stiles look at him. The tension in the room was palpable, and Derek’s pupils were so far dilated Stiles had trouble seeing the beautiful hues of his irises. He jumped up out of his chair and straddled Derek. 

When their lips connected, it felt like electricity running through his veins. His hands started trailing along Derek’s body underneath him, and he felt Derek hug him closer, his warm hands on the small of his back. 

While Derek’s hands slipped into the back of his pants, kneading at his cheeks, Stiles worked on opening Derek’s pants and released his dick to the air. Derek was hard already, and the tension during the meeting had left Stiles with an uncomfortable tenting in his pants. When he undid his own pants too and put his hand around them both, he dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder and sighed. Derek was still kneading at his ass, and he trailed a hand lower down, a finger brushing against his opening.

“Derek-,” Stiles moaned. He felt so overwhelmed, he stopped moving his hand altogether. Derek shushed him gently, and moved a hand out of Stiles’ pants to curl around their hard cocks instead. The precome helped them glide better together, and Stiles couldn’t help grind into Derek. When he moved back, he felt the added teasing of Derek’s finger against his rim. 

It wasn’t long before Stiles came with a shout over Derek’s exposed abs, his own hands pulling at Derek’s hair and kissing his jaw, his neck, wherever he could reach.

Derek was still moving his hand gently over their dicks, and it took Stiles a second to realize Derek hadn’t finished yet. He licked into Derek’s mouth, kissing him deeply before getting off his lap and onto his knees before him. He quickly tucked himself away and grabbed at Derek’s thighs to pull him closer before taking him into his mouth. Stiles could feel Derek’s hands in his hair as he bobbed his head up and down Derek’s length, twirling his tongue around the head until Derek grabbed at Stiles’ hair in warning. Stiles was undeterred and kept up what he was doing until he could feel Derek coming down his throat, then eased down his ministrations until Derek pulled him away, feeling too sensitive.

Stiles wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and sat back on his heels, assessing the situation through sudden clear eyes. He’d done it again.  _ They _ had done it again. He looked up at Derek, who was looking disheveled as all hell but not like he was freaking out. He was wincing at the mess left on his torso, and Stiles would feel guilty if he wasn’t busy being confused out of his mind again.

“What is this, Derek?” Stiles asked as he stood up and leaned against the table. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Derek shrugged, like this all meant nothing to him. “Can’t we just… God, this doesn’t have to be a big thing, alright... Can’t we just have some fun?”

Stiles swallowed the hurt, his throat feeling parched and clicking. He would object to what Derek was saying, except...that would mean Derek would leave him completely. Even trying his best to ignore his own feelings, Stiles had to admit he wanted,  _ needed _ Derek in his life. Any way he could have him. So he nodded. “Yeah. This is just...fun.” He faked a smile, hoped it was convincing. “Like a stress relief, a way to let off some steam.”

Derek smiled. “Yeah. I’m so glad you understand, Stiles.” He stood up, pulled Stiles close for a last kiss before leaving the meeting room. Stiles stood there where Derek left him and felt dirty and extremely stupid, but that feeling wouldn’t stop him from doing it again, probably.

 

\---

 

Since that conversation, they hooked up quite often, each time more creative than the last. They fucked in Derek’s bed in his quarters, which was basically a giant swing when the ship wasn’t on the water, but they needed to be quiet, since his crew slept not far away. Derek had ravished Stiles against his bookcase, on his desk, against the wall. His quarters were well abused.

That’s not to say Stiles’ own quarters managed to escape them. In fact, Stiles was having trouble to think of a place on either ship  _ or _ on the island that they hadn’t christened yet. It has been almost a year of this, and Stiles was feeling worse with every time. He still managed to hide it from Derek pretty well, he thought, but he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

He sunk to the floor of the brothel room where he and Derek had fooled around just a few minutes ago. Derek had left the room looking like he always did. Relaxed, unbothered, like he was just having  _ fun _ . Stiles had stopped having fun a long time ago.

He must have been stuck in his own head for a while, because there came a knock at the door and Lydia, one of the brothel girls, entered the room. When she saw him sitting on the floor, looking lost and broken, she joined him.

“You wanna talk?”

Stiles huffed a broken laugh, lips trembling slightly. “Am I that obvious?”

“Honey, there isn’t much you can hide in this house… And I think you need someone to talk to, if only so you can admit things to yourself. Don’t you think?” she asked him kindly.

He nodded, and could see the tear falling on his shirt. When had he started crying? “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”

“I want you to say it, Stiles.”

“I can’t just...keep fucking him! And I can’t pretend it means nothing to me, that  _ he _ means nothing to me!” Stiles sighed and pulled his knees closer to his torso. “He’s an asshole, an absolute shithead, and I  _ love _ him.”

He could feel another teardrop escaping and rolling down his face. “I love him.” He knocked his head back against the wall, did it again, made it hurt. Lydia put an arm around him, pulled him closer and Stiles leaned his head against her shoulder. 

“I hate it. I hate that he makes me feel so good and so bad at the same fucking time. I hate that I’m crying over the fucking twat right now. I hate that I need him so much.”

“It’s okay to cry, Stiles,” Lydia said. “But maybe… Maybe you need some time away from him.”

Stiles twisted his head around to see her face. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, it’s been almost a year now, right?”

Stiles nodded.

“How many times have you sailed out during the last year?”

Stiles thought back, could only remember about 6 excursions. 

“And now think back to the year before. How often you went out then.”

It was more, definitely more. He was staying on the island for longer and longer periods just so he could see Derek more. And that wasn’t right. He was a fucking pirate, for fuck’s sake. 

He looked up at Lydia, and he saw the truth in her eyes. He needed some time away. He needed to put some space, hell, an entire ocean if it was possible, between him and Derek. 

“You’re right. But, Lydia… I don’t know if I can confront him. If I go up to him and tell him I’m leaving… I don’t know if I can do that.” Stiles was scared he wouldn’t be able to mutter the words, or even worse, if he told Derek and he didn't care. That would break Stiles.

“So don’t tell him.” Lydia shrugged.

Stiles looked up at her incredulously.

“I’m serious, why would you? You don’t owe him anything, Stiles. Put yourself first, and just go. Have fun, explore, steal some shit.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Thanks, Lydia.”

“You’re fucking welcome,” Lydia laughed, pulling his head closer again and stroking his hair. “When you fall, you fall hard, Stiles. And I like you, I don’t wanna see you hurt. So I’ll help, however I can. I’ll make sure he isn’t around when you leave.”

Stiles smiled at her, nodding his thanks.

“Now help me up, this corset wasn’t made for slumping.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, the heat really kicked my writing butt ;_; Enjoy!

“Lydia, I don’t understand why I needed to be here for this.” Derek huffs, feeling extremely obsolete. 

“Listen, I don’t know your quartermaster very well, so I have no clue how he’ll react to this news. I thought it’d be best to have some back-up, someone who knows him. Someone who can carry him out if he  _ faints _ .”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “What the fuck kind of news is he getting?”

They’re standing outside the door of one of the brothel rooms, and Derek is feeling like a creeper, but Lydia said it was important and absolutely couldn’t wait. Behind the door, he can hear the muffled voices of Erica and Boyd, but he can’t make out the words.

The longer it goes on, the higher his eyebrow is creeping while he’s glaring at Lydia. She doesn’t seem impressed. Damn it, that usually works on everybody.

The door opens slowly, creaking a little, and out walks Boyd. He looks like he just saw a ghost, or if someone told him the bar was out of booze or something. 

“Boyd?”

He looks up surprised, like he somehow forgot other people existed. “Hey, Captain.”

“You alright there?” Derek has a sudden urge to put a hand on his shoulder, but then, that seems weird for them, so he stops himself. “You’re looking a little queasy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um… I’m gonna be a dad, apparently.”

Derek feels like an idiot for not spotting Erica leaning against the doorframe behind Boyd. She’s smiling gently, and that’s when Derek notices she’s not wearing a corset like the rest of the girls usually do. She’s resting her hands on her stomach, already protective of the small life inside of her. 

“Are you… Uh…,” Derek can’t seem to find any good words. “Are you not...happy?”

Boyd’s been a regular client of Erica for about two years now, if Derek remembers correctly. 

-

He’d been resting in his quarters when Boyd came in unannounced --Boyd being terrible at the ‘always knock’ rule they had installed-- and dropped down into a chair. “I think I’m in love,” he announced.

That’s...nice,” Derek said. Idiot. Derek’s a word idiot. How he ever managed to become captain is a mystery to him.

“Her name is Erica, and she’s beautiful and one day I’m gonna marry her and have her babies.”

“Are you drunk, Boyd?”

“Drunk on love, maybe,” Boyd swooned.

“Jesus Christ.”

-

Boyd looks up in shock. “I’m happy! Of course I’m happy! I’m so happy!” His voice gets louder and louder, and Derek winces at the volume. Boyd’s usually so quiet. He likes that about Boyd. A man who respects the fact that Derek would like to keep his eardrums intact. It’s the reason he doesn’t kick Boyd out of his quarters when he forgets to knock, which is every single time.

“Alright, I believe you, you’re happy! Have you told your face?”

And suddenly, Boyd gets the widest grin, nearly blinding Derek with his shiny white teeth. It looks weird on him. He probably shouldn’t say that, though. He might get punched.

“Drinks on me!” Boyd shouts, making Derek wince again.

“We’re not in the bar, Boyd.” Lydia says, failing to hide a grin behind her hand.

Boyd walks over to the staircase and shouts down, “Drinks are on me!”, making the bar erupt with loud sounds of approval. It’s not even midday yet, bloody drunks.

Derek decides to clap a hand on Boyd’s shoulder, ignoring the awkwardness for now. “Where are you gonna get all this gold to pay for drinks  _ and _ a baby?”

It’s like Boyd is in some weird sort of haze, the euphoria working like a drug. “We should go out and find  _ more _ gold.”

“I’m so glad you’re my quartermaster, Boyd. Don’t know what I’d do without your infinite wisdom.”

The euphoria isn’t potent enough for Boyd to miss the sarcasm, though. He pulls an unimpressed face and Derek can’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright, I get it. We need to go out again soon anyway. We still need a few days to supply the ship with enough food and drink, but then we’ll be on our way. In fact, while you celebrate down here, I’ll go check on our progress.”

It’s a great plan, if Derek says so himself. He can avoid the unbelievably loud bar filled with drunk pirates and take a stroll down to the beach, maybe he’ll even run into Stiles there. Once he assures Boyd that he’ll join him for a drink later, he sets off.

It’s weird how he hasn’t seen any of Stiles’ crew in the bar, or in the streets on his way to the ships. Most days, Scott is at the bar making googly eyes at Allison, who in turn tries to hide how pleased she is with his attention. Isaac’s constantly talking to Derek about it, but he always fails to keep his own feelings about it out of his voice. Derek’s not sure if Isaac’s jealous of Allison or of Scott, and maybe Isaac isn’t so sure either. He won’t ask Isaac about it unless he mentions it first, though. He doesn’t want to push anybody. 

Derek’s a bit lost in his own thoughts during his walk to the water, but as soon as he reaches the coastline, he realizes what’s wrong. The Fox Tail is gone. Stiles is gone.

It’s not like Stiles has never left before, but he always told Derek about it. He either mentioned it before any kissing started, or he waited ‘til Derek was pulling his pants back on and almost out the door. He never left without warning Derek of his absence before. It feels off, like Derek’s missing something.

 

* * *

 

On day four, Derek starts counting the days since Stiles has been gone. It’s not that he’s worried, per se. He just has a weird feeling about it. 

 

* * *

 

On day six, he asks Allison if she knows anything about where the Fox Tail went.

She pulls her eyes away from the back of the bar, and when Derek looks over his shoulder, he sees Isaac, Boyd and Erica sitting at a table, drinking and laughing.

“The Fox Tail?” she repeats. “You’re seriously asking me where a rival pirate ship went?”

Derek scoffs, “We’re not rivals-”

“You’re pirates. You’re all rivals. And idiots.”

Derek pulls a face. Technically, she’s right.

“And besides,” she continues, “I thought Captain Stilinski would have told you. What with your...history.”

Somehow that stings a bit. “Well, he didn’t.”

“Oh.” 

 

* * *

 

On day eleven, he caves and asks Lydia. Or, well, he tries to ask Lydia. She’s not being very cooperative. Every time Derek tries to change the subject to Stiles or his ship, she finds a different task she desperately needs to finish. 

One time he tried following her, but Allison was quick to grab his arm in a vice grip and pull him back to his seat, saying “Come on, Derek. You know better than that.”

 

* * *

On day fifteen, he’s in a horrible mood. He finished reading a book, and when it didn’t end like he thought it would, he threw it against the wall. He’s staring at it lying on the floor now, and he feels stupid. It’s just a fucking book.

They’re out at seas, and he can hear the bustle of his crew on the deck. It’s annoying him immensely, and every little noise sets him on edge. Eventually he throws his door open and goes to stand next to Boyd, hoping the ocean air will do him some good. 

“Hey Captain, you alright?”

Derek shrugs and grunts. “Stupid book.”

Luckily for Derek, Boyd is used to his lack of words when he’s in a mood, and he just nods like he understands completely.

“So, you and Erica, huh?”

Boyd quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Nothing, I just… I didn’t know you guys were so serious, is all,” Derek says, looking out at the horizon.

“I’m gonna marry her, captain. I told you that the day I met her. I love her, Derek.”

It’s not Boyd’s use of his first name that makes Derek look at him, it’s the conviction with which he speaks. Like it’s fact, it’s a truth no one will ever be able to dispute. Like love is so easy.

Derek tries to smile like he means it. “Good. That’s...good. I’m happy for you.”

 

* * *

 

It’s day twenty-seven, and the Triskele is back in Beacon Port. The minute the island was in view, Derek was out on the deck to check which other ships were docked. No Fox Tail. He’s overwhelmed with the feeling of disappointment, and he attempts to push it back. 

When he goes to sell his “acquired” goods to the Argents, Derek tries to stop himself from asking the question, he really does. Eventually he caves, of course, but Allison doesn’t even let him finish speaking.

“So have you heard anything-”

“Derek,” she starts, and when did everybody start calling him by his first name? “I haven’t seen him.”

He won’t even insult her by muttering he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but the look on his face must do something.

She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, then leaves the room. That was weird. Nice, but weird.

 

* * *

 

On day forty-eight, he drinks. They’ve gone out to sea once more, and upon their return, still no Stiles, still no Fox Tail in Beacon Port.

So today, Derek is getting shitfaced drunk. He’s well on his way now, slightly slumped over a table, and he’s joined by Erica, Boyd and Isaac. He knows they’re just taking pity on him, but honestly, Derek couldn’t give less of a crap. The company’s kind of nice.

“Hey Isaac, hey,” Derek snaps his fingers at him to catch his attention. “Isaac.”

“Yes, Captain?” He’s grinning, the little shithead. 

“Y’should ask ‘em.”

“Ask who what, Captain.

“Scallison.” Derek snorts when he realizes his mistake. “Scott and Allison. Y’should ask ‘em.”

He’s seeing double, but both Isaacs are turning red.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” Derek yawns. “But y’should still ask.”

He lays his head down on the table for a moment, grimacing at the sticky feeling, and he can hear his crewmates talking above him. A sudden thought strikes him.

“Hey! Er’ca! You work in the brothel!”

He can’t figure out what her face is doing, but she looks unimpressed. “Correct.”

“So how do you know it’s Boyd’s baby?”

The table jostles with how fast Erica stands up, and Boyd holds her back immediately. Derek’s confused.

“Baby, he’s drunk out of his mind, please, he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s being an idiot, and you know why-”

“‘M just curious, ‘s all,” he mutters to Isaac, who refuses to look at him for some reason.

A few seconds later, when Boyd has calmed Erica down enough that she wouldn’t slice her nails across Derek’s face (her words), they both sit down again.

“Let’s for a moment pretend this is  _ any _ of your fucking business,” Erica starts, still looking like she wants to maim him. “What me and Boyd do, I don’t do with anybody else. Okay? That satisfy your pervy brain?”

“‘M sorry,” he apologizes, but doesn’t really know what for right now.

“Hey, what did you mean when you said you know why i’m an idi-” Derek startles when someone hits his chair by accident, and he scoots forward to let them through. When he sees the man walking away, he gets a sudden influx of emotions. So naturally, surrounded by his crewmembers and a full bar of other pirates who seemingly respect him, he starts to cry. His lip even starts wobbling, for fuck’s sake.

“Captain?”

“Derek? What’s wrong?”

He feels himself choking up on the words trying to leave his throat. “His leg.”

They all look at him like he lost his damn mind, and he attempts to clarify as his vision blurs with unshed tears, “He has a wooden leg.”

Boyd stands up and rests a hand on his shoulder, and Derek leans into the warmth.

“I think we need to get you to bed, Captain. I’ll take him back, guys.”

They make their way back to the ship, slowly but surely. Derek makes them stop a few times to lean against a wall and breathe for a second, trying to clear his head. There are still tears running down his face, and Derek attempts to push them back in, poking at his own eyes before Boyd stops him. 

“I’m leaking!” he shrieks. “Boyd, I’m gonna dry out!”

“The way you drank tonight, that seems unlikely, but sure.” Derek can hear a sound much like a snort.

“Are you…?” Derek squints his eyes. “Are you  _ laughing _ at me?”

Boyd places a hand on his chest and scoffs, “Captain, I would  _ never _ . Come on, let’s keep going.”

Derek trips over his own feet, but they make it to his cabin eventually.

“Alright Captain, I really,  _ really _ hope you can do the rest by yourself.”

Derek waves him off and shuts the door, leaning against it. His mind is a blurry mess and his stomach is telling him he’s caught in a storm at sea, which he knows can’t be right. For one thing, there’s nobody annoyingly yelling in his ear: “Captain, there’s a  _ storm _ !” Idiots. Like he can’t tell that for himself. His crew’s not that bad, though. They may be idiots, but they’re loveable idiots. They elected him as captain, however, so there’s gotta be at least  _ something _ wrong with them.

Leaning his back against the door, he pulls a leg up and tries to shove his boot off while undoing his pants. They drop down a lot quicker than the boot does, leaving Derek bended over trying to pry it off when the door opens, making him tumble to the floor.

“Hey Captain, everything alright in he- _ Okay _ ! I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t just see that, I’m heading back to the bar, sorry for not knocking, see you later, bye!” Boyd rambles and shuts the door behind him immediately, leaving Derek confused as to what just happened.

It takes a second for him to recognize the weird texture against his skin as wood, finally realizing what spooked Boyd so bad. His pasty white ass. What a great day it has been.

Once he removes all obsolete clothing, he crawls into bed and quickly falls asleep, dreaming of wooden legs, and of Stiles and for once, not of burnt down houses and wild cackling in his ear.

 

* * *

 

On day sixty-one, Derek cuts his hair. That morning, a sudden gust of wind had messed up his long locks and Derek was instantly reminded of all the times Stiles’ long fingers had trailed through it. The pang of hurt, of missing Stiles after two months of hearing nothing, made Derek run over to the bar where he’d find Erica and, without a doubt, several other of his crewmembers.

“I want you to cut my hair,” Derek demands, then adding, “Please.”

Erica’s eyes widen at a frightening speed, and she seems just a little too enthusiastic for Derek’s tastes.

“You want me to put a sharp object near your scalp? Am I dreaming?”

“Funny,” Derek deadpans. He’s very much ignoring the surprised looks on Boyd and Isaac’s faces, keeping his stare directed at Erica only. “Will you please help me?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Erica smiles kindly and leads him to a different room.

When it’s done, and strands of hair surround his chair, Erica asks him, “Do you feel better now?”

He looks at himself in the small mirror Erica handed him earlier, and rubs his head to feel the difference. 

“No.”

He hates it.

Erica leans down and kisses his temple. “What are you gonna do when he gets back, Derek?”

Derek sighs. Of course Erica knows what’s really going on. And if she knows, Boyd knows, and so Isaac probably knows too. Who is he kidding, his entire crew probably knows.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “I’ll tell him how I feel.”

Erica huffs. “Derek, do  _ you _ even know how you feel? What happened with you two?”

Derek does, in fact, know how he feels. He feels like a right old pile of shit. The way he treated Stiles, how he went on to treat him even when he could tell Stiles didn’t seem to like the conditions anymore, Derek had been kind of an asshole. He could tell, of course, that Stiles wasn’t just in it for a quick fuck every now and then. Stiles is much too open, too free to ever be able to hide his true feelings. Derek knew that, yet he ignored all the signs.

He’s very good at running away from things, at hiding. It’s how he ended up as a pirate in the first place. 

So at the first sign of feelings forming in his gut, when he realized what Stiles might begin to mean to him, he shut down. He couldn’t let love destroy him, and everything around him, again. Regardless of the fact that Stiles made Derek feel alive, after years of feeling like his insides were ash, the fact that Derek felt happy, the fact that he felt comfortable enough to share some small parts of his history; he shut everything down out of fear for that same history repeating itself.

_ That’s _ what happened between them. Derek was a coward. And Stiles deserves an explanation.

He gives Erica a shrug, and even though she knows that’s not an answer to her question, she seems pleased.

 

* * *

 

After about three months, Derek has stopped counting the days (that’s a lie, it’s day ninety-seven), and the Fox Tail returns to Beacon Port.

He’s sitting in the bar playing cards with Boyd, Isaac and Erica when he hears some people yelling. Several of the patrons run outside to see what’s going on, and Derek joins them. He can instantly see what’s causing all the murmurs as the Fox Tail docks and the crew sets foot on land again after months at sea.

Derek gets a big grin on his face and before he even realizes he’s doing it, he starts running towards the ship, even pushing some people out of the way.

He reaches the start of the jetty and he can see Stiles and Scott talking, making their way towards the island. They’re coming closer to him, and Derek’s heart starts pounding faster.

“Stiles,” he says when they’re just a foot away and Stiles… Stiles doesn’t look up. He keeps walking as if he didn’t even hear Derek, but when Derek repeats his name to his retreating back, he still doesn’t turn.

Scott turns and shrugs apologetically, so at least Derek knows he didn’t suddenly turn invisible. When he reaches Boyd, Erica and Isaac again, they’re keeping their eyes glued to the sand.

“Shit,” Derek says.

 

-

 

Beacon Port is a prosperous city, but the island hasn’t been spared from its share of shipwrecks. There’s a place near the shore that used to be known as ‘the rocks’, but as the years passed, it was transformed into ‘the wrecks’, made up out of rocks and wooden debris. There hasn’t been a shipwreck in a while, so it’s safe to walk on, and it’s a great place to get some peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle that goes on in the port. So after stressing out for a while and coming up with a game plan, Derek makes his way over there.

Careful not to slip on the broken wood and rocks, he soon sees the silhouette of Stiles looking out at the sun setting in the ocean.

He doesn’t say anything when he sits down next to Stiles, but he breathes a small sigh of relief when Stiles doesn’t stand up and leave.

They watch the sky shifting from blue into hues of purples and pinks, and Stiles sighs next to him.

“What do you want, Derek?” He’s leaning back on the rocks, and keeps his gaze to the horizon.

“I wanna talk.”

Stiles doesn’t snort at him, or give him an incredulous look, and Derek is pleasantly surprised. He would have definitely deserved it.

“So, talk.” Stiles finally turns his head and looks at him, eyes void of emotion. He looks tired. He looks like he’s got the world on his shoulders weighing him down, and Derek put it there. 

Derek looks at the setting sun again, because it’s less painful than Stiles’ tired eyes, and because stories like this always seem easier to tell when not facing someone else.

“When I was twenty-one, I was engaged to be married,” he starts, and he can tell he grabbed Stiles’ attention with piece of information. “Her name was Kate, and she lived with her father in the next town over. I met her during a walk through the town, and I fell for her instantly. She made me feel special, like my world was made all the better from her presence in it. After a few weeks of courtship, we invited her and her father over for dinner, and afterwards, I walked them both back. When I returned to the house, it was on fire.”

It’s been so long since Derek let himself think of that night. Yet after almost ten years, he remembers every little detail. The black smoke hanging around the house, the screaming coming from inside that told him exactly who was still in there, the smell of burning flesh. The big flames at every door that ensured Derek couldn’t walk in and save anybody.

He continues, “My entire family was in there. My mother, my father, my uncle who was visiting us. My two sisters. I know I told you about them, but I never explained why they weren’t around anymore. Laura and Cora.” He clears his throat. “Kate set the fire. Or, at least, orchestrated it. I didn’t realize it immediately, wouldn’t dare think she would do that to me. But then she accused me of my family’s murder.”

Stiles is staring at him now, mouth hanging open slightly.

“She told everyone I had a big fight with my family during the dinner, that I had such a bad temper, and that she was scared of me. She eventually told the authorities she suspected I had set it all up, and then the witch hunt began. I packed the few possessions that could be salvaged from the house, and I boarded the first boat out of there. I eventually made my way out here, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“I’m… I’m sorry that happened to you, Derek,” Stiles says, turning to look at him head-on. “And please don’t take this the wrong way, but… What does that have to do with us?”

His voice breaks on that last word, and Derek nods, continues, “I loved Kate.”

He gets that incredulous look directed at him now, and Derek grimaces. 

“I know it sounds weird, but I did. For the duration of those weeks, when we were courting, and having fun, I loved her. She made me happy, and then she took everything,  _ everyone _ I ever loved away from me. She destroyed me. And she made me distrust everyone I ever met since her. But when I met  _ you _ , I felt good again, like I could trust you with anything. It felt like I had been living in darkness, and you brought all the colour back. I got so comfortable with you, and then...somehow I missed the exact part where I started loving you and just sailed right on through.”

Stiles’ eyes widen at the word ‘love’ and he opens his mouth to talk. Derek raises a finger, silently asking him to wait. 

“I got scared, Stiles. You got under my skin so easily, and you fit there  _ so _ well, and when I realized how close to my heart you were, I got so fucking scared, I couldn’t handle it. It’s like I wouldn’t allow myself to be happy, for once. But I also knew I couldn’t stay away from you, so I wanted to keep all the feelings out of it. And I realize how terribly unfair that was to you, how shitty I behaved towards you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles is silent for a few seconds, then asks, “Are you finished?”

Thrown by the short reply, Derek nods. And promptly gets slapped in the face. Hard.

“You fucking idiot,” Stiles says and grabs his shirt to pull him closer. Then he trails his thumb over Derek’s lip and kisses him, licking over the small split in his lip. It takes a second for Derek to get with the program but by then Stiles has pulled back again.

“Your family was taken from you by a madwoman. Everyone you have ever loved, you have lost and it terrifies you. But not me. I will never,  _ ever _ leave you. And I will never hurt you. I love you, you giant oaf.” Stiles kisses him again, grabs his face and pulls him in. 

“Stiles,” Derek breaks their kiss momentarily, feels exceptionally stupid for doing so but he needs to say this. “I love you too.”

“Yes, thank you, I had gathered as much,” Stiles grins, “You utter asshole, oh my  _ god _ .”

Before Derek has the time to feel insulted, Stiles straddles him and kisses him with such passion, Derek can’t feel his toes anymore. He loves the feeling of Stiles’ long, deft fingers scratching at his scalp, his plump lips sucking on his own, the way his groin is grinding down onto his own, and good lord this is getting very heated very fast.

Stiles pushes him down and leans over him when Derek exclaims in pain.

Stiles pulls back immediately. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Derek huffs, trying to get back up, “There’s some wood poking me in the back.”

The grin on Stiles’ face is diabolical.

“Don’t, Stiles.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say it.”

“That’s not where you wanna be poked, is it?” His eyebrows are doing something weird. It’s adorable.

Derek drops his head back down in despair, then winces when he connects with a piece of rock. “I hate you.”

“Nuh-uh, you  _ love _ me. You wanna keep me forever and ever and have my babies, don’t lie.”

“How does that even-”

“Don’t lie, Derek!”

 

-

 

Derek is leaning on hands and knees on Stiles’ small bed that’s suspended from the ceiling with ropes, and if he had enough blood in his head, he’d feel exposed. As it is, all the blood in his body has relocated to his dick, so he doesn’t mind much.

Stiles is kneeling on the floor behind him, his hands grabbing tight on Derek’s thighs, pulling him closer as he buries his face between his cheeks. At the first gentle lick, Derek shivers, and automatically pushes back, swinging the bed slightly. Stiles being the giant tease that he is, decides to swing the bed a little harder, and licks across his rim every time he comes closer. 

“You’re such a little shit,” Derek huffs, before biting his own arm to stop himself from saying something dumb like ‘Swing me harder!’. Stiles would never let him live that down.

“Hmm,” Stiles agrees, and slaps across his right cheek, then rubbing over the mark to redden it further. When he gets bored of the swinging action, he pulls Derek close enough to deliver broad licks, then tries to push in the tip of his tongue. 

Derek moans when Stiles inserts the first finger, not used to the feeling after so many months. Sure, he jacked off in the meantime, but he didn’t touch his own ass. In some strange way, he felt like only Stiles could do that. While Derek reminisces on his months flying solo, Stiles has added another finger, still licking to make it easier. 

“St-”, Derek releases an embarrassing sound when Stiles’ fingers hit him in just the right spot, “Stiles, please. I’m ready.”

He hears Stiles standing up behind him, and then gets slapped on the butt again. “Alright then, Captain. You joining me here, or do I have to do everything by myself?”

He fails to make a graceful exit off of the swinging bed, but Stiles trips over a discarded shirt, so all is well. 

They’re both grinning, and Derek pulls Stiles close, grabs him under his thighs so Stiles can straddle his waist mid-air. Stiles kisses him filthily, licking over his lips, fighting with Derek’s tongue, and sucking on the split he caused on Derek’s lip until Derek feels it hurt in the best of ways. As Stiles mauls his mouth, and Derek thoroughly enjoys his ministrations, he in turn squeezes Stiles’ buttcheeks, making Stiles moan into his mouth.

“Weren’t we-,” Stiles asks between kisses, “in the middle of something?” He scratches at Derek’s scalp, and isn’t that just almost enough to make Derek come prematurely. He puts Stiles down gently, and Stiles smirks.

“Where do you want me?” Derek asks.

Stiles takes his time looking around his cabin, looking for the most unusual place, no doubt.

“I wanna fuck you against the door.”

If Derek were to open his mouth, he’s sure an embarrassing squeak would follow, so he just nods profusely. The way Stiles is grinning shows he knows how eager he is, though.

Derek quickly goes to stand against the cabin door, and bites his lip --accidentally opening the split again--  as Stiles plasters himself against him. When Derek turns his head to watch what he’s doing, Stiles is pouring oil on his fingers and cock. He returns to massaging Derek’s rim and pushing inside to prep him, and it’s not long before Derek feels his blunt head pushing at his entrance. Stiles holds on to his shoulders and pushes further inside, bottoming out and nudging so satisfyingly against Derek’s prostate.

“Are you ready?” Stiles whispers in his ear, and Derek turns his head to capture Stiles’ mouth with his.

“Yeah.”

Stiles’ firm grip on his shoulders relocates to his hips as Stiles starts pushing harder and harder, making his thrusts quicker too. It’s knocking the breath out of Derek, and he’s loving every second of it. Every deep, hard thrust Stiles delivers, the filthy sound of skin slapping against skin, and the warm puffs of breath he feels Stiles leave against his neck are setting Derek on edge. 

He turns his head again and asks, “C’mere”, before Stiles switches to slower, gentler thrusts and pushes his face in closer to lick into Derek’s mouth.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. 

Derek and Stiles immediately still.

“Are you alright in there?” Scott’s voice asks. Derek’s eyes widen at this realization and moves to pull away from the door, but Stiles keeps him steady.

“You’ve been gone for a while, and I was just wondering-” Scott continues, and to Derek’s extreme surprise, so does Stiles.

He pulls his cock almost completely out before thrusting back in hard, making Derek bump against the door. Stiles’ hand makes his way over Derek’s mouth, urging him to be quiet, but he pushes at Derek’s prostate and Derek’s moans tend to come out at a certain volume.

“-if you were okay, because a few of us were worried…” Scott trails off. “Wait a second.”

Stiles pushes back in unrelentlessly, and Derek tries  _ so hard _ to stay quiet.

“Are you guys… Is that…?”

Stiles nails his prostate and Derek moans loudly.

“Oh my  _ god _ !” Scott shouts, “Oh my god! Everybody,  _ abandon ship _ ! For the love of fuck!”

Stiles is snickering in Derek’s ear, and if he wasn’t on the brink of orgasm, he might have laughed too.

“Stiles,  _ please _ ,” Derek grunts, “My kingdom to make me come.”

“Isn’t that blasphemy?”

“ _ Stiles _ .”

“Alright, calm your tits.” 

It only takes a few more hard thrusts for Derek to release against the door, and he can feel Stiles leaning into him as he reaches orgasm too. They stand there for a minute, leaning against the door and each other, trying to gain their wits again. They’ve literally fucked themselves stupid.

A little while later, they’re lounging on Stiles’ bed, snuggled close together and Stiles is scratching at Derek’s scalp again. 

“Why’d you cut your hair? I liked it long.”

“I know. ‘S why I cut it.”

“Is this you admitting you’re a big sentimental baby?”

Derek glares, and in what seems to have become a tradition, he’s met with an unimpressed look. It’s quickly followed by Stiles’ wide grin.

“It’s okay if you are, Derek. I’m a big sentimental baby too. I stole one of your books.”

Derek snorts softly. “I yelled at my crew for half an hour because I thought one of them went in my quarters. Was it a good one?”

“Meh,” Stiles shrugs, “I much prefer being read to.”

Derek grins and pulls him closer to kiss his temple. Stiles grows quiet for a little while, which is usually cause for concern. Then he speaks up.

“So… How exactly is this going to work? Two rival captains in love? I know neither of us is gonna give up the captaincy, and nor should we. We’ve both earned our spots. But how do we continue?”

The answer suddenly seems so simple, a way for both of them to keep their status, their crews and each other’s company.

“How do you feel about starting a fleet?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr!  
> [main blog](http://itsstuckyupmybutt.tumblr.com/), [TW sideblog](http://withhisteeth.tumblr.com/)


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